It happened that in the midst of the dissipations attended upon a Santa Clara winter, I was pale, and broken, with my hands clasped and grief running in raw streams of redness down my face. The weather was strange. There was a fitful wind that swirled fallen leaves in cones and eddies like kaleidoscopic little whirlpools on the grass. The wind was unseasonably warm, as well as capricious. The rain dimpled upon the windows, and there was nothing cheerful about this night. Odd bits of debris carried past the windows, half-sunk, ambiguous in the rain. The cast of the light from the lamps in the garden were being absorbed, rather than reflecting any light. Organ music, emphysemic from the Grand Ballroom. However, odd melodies kept drifting over it, reminding me of the piano rags and vapid crooning my old grandfather like to listen to. The light was odd. Twice, the servants seemed to fade to black and white in their somber march through the mansion. I rubbed my eyes. There was nothing wrong, I knew, with my eyesight. When I looked again, the procession was normal. I began to feel the floor beat underneath me like impatient hands, cold and flapping. And I can honestly say that I had never been frightened, but I was frightened now. And I was spooked. I looked up through the dim ripples of light, and thought I saw a team of snorting, black-plumed horses crossing the front law. I throbbed with horrible life underneath me and knew that it was my own pulse, thumping, my whole body cold and urgent now with foreboding. #RandolphHarris 1 of 8

Then I heard someone scream from. And the sound pierced my heart with its terror and its bewilderment. Gusts of rain lashed with vindictive fury at the windows of the mansion. I felt a tapping on my shoulder that began to burn. I felt powerless and terrified. The tallow and wax candles flickered. Bursting into tears, I ran out into the light and pulled back my collar, there was a long, three-pronged claw mark on my neck that was bleeding. Overcoming by the strange things going on around me, I fainted. When I came to, I was lying in my bed and shivering, I could not feel the heat from the fireplace flames. Looking up at a window which seemed very small and far away, I heard sounds of weeping, muffled as if through thick cotton wool. I did not know how long my illness would last, but the house was shrouded in darkness. I kept to my room for many months, during which I allowed only brief visits. The curtains were always drawn. “I trust you are feeling a little better today, Mrs. Winchester?” The housemaid would ask, and I would rouse myself wearily and say that yes, I supposed that I was, and then would read The Oakland Tribune until it was time for me to set off to my office, where I worked each day on accounting.  Most evenings I dined in the Venetian Dining Room. On Sundays, I worked in my study, I did not go to Church because I was busy managing my estate. I was also still grieving the loss of my infant daughter and charming husband. Oh, I was so dreadfully distressed. Because I loved my family so, I could not dare to be parted from them, but I knew one day I would recover my spirits. #RandolphHarris 2 of 8

My mansion looked as grand as a palace with its avenue of lamps, and more windows than you could count, and a statue of an angel before the entrance. Though I was compounded of guilt—even gilt at being alive at all–in the dark drawing room, I prayed constantly to be happy again. Some gathered around me because I possessed great wealth, and they thought it was their duty to help me take care of this fortune, but inevitably found that there was a cruse upon it, for they were all either led to the scaffold, or sunk to the lowest and most abject misery. With every mystery comes a sense of something evil. Many obtained no greater gratification from the constant excitement of vainly wishing to break that mystery, which to their exalted imaginations began to assume the appearance of something supernatural. Letter arrived from England, which I opened with eager impatience; the first was from my sister, breathing nothing but affection; the others were from my business partners imagining there was an evil power resident in my mansion. I must admit, however, its character was dreadfully vicious, for its possession of irresistible powers of seduction, rendering its licentious habits more dangerous to inquisitors. Llanada Villa used its character to enhance her gratification. It seemed like the pinnacle of unsullied virtue, but could drag some down to the lowest abyss of infamy and degradation. Throwing every mask aside, this mansion seemed to be sculpted to expose the whole deformity of their vices to the public gaze. #RandolphHarris 3 of 8

As she existed, so beautiful and delicate, Llanada Villa might have formed the model for a painter, wishing to portray on canvas the promised hope of the faith Mahomet’s paradise, but she belonged to those who had so souls. As she graced the plain, she was the eye of animated nature, for this beautiful luxurious mansion suited but to the taste of an epicure. Though ghosts can sometimes be seen at dusk wandering around the base of the Observational Tower, and their screams could be heard for miles. There was a living vampire, who has passed the years amidst the servants, feeding upon the life of a lovely female to prolong his existence for the ensuing months, his blood would run cold. Some thought these tales were just horrible fantasies; but Mr. Hansen cited the names of old men, who has at last detected one living among themselves, after several of their near relatives and children had been found marked with the stamp of the fiend’s appetite. Those who had dared to question their existence, always found some proof given, which obliged them, with grief and heartbreaking, to confess it was true. Once, while an artist was sketching my home, when his parents heard the name of my estate, they begged of him not to return at night, as he must necessarily pass through the fruit orchards, where no farmer would ever remain, after the day had closed, upon any consideration. They described it as the resort of the vampire in their nocturnal orgies, and denounced the most heavy evils as impending upon one who dared cross their path. #RandolphHarris 4 of 8

He made light of their representations, and tried to laugh them out of the idea; but when he saw his parent’s shudder at his daring thus to mock a superior, infernal power, the very name of which apparently made their blood freeze, he was silent. Tarquin often stayed in the Haunted Bedroom. He reported that it felt as though somebody had thrown something in his eyes. He also heard footsteps and furniture being moved about in the room and saw a strange figure looking at him. Next morning when Tarquin told me these tales, he was surprised to observe my melancholy face, and was shocked to find I was concerned about his words, mocking the belief of those horrible fiends, for the inspired me with such terror. Throughout the day, he was so occupied in his research, that he did not perceive that day-light would soon end, and that in the horizon there was a tremendous storm pouring all its rage upon the country side. He at last, however, mounted his horse, deterred to make up by speed for his delay: but it was too late. Twilight, in this climate, is almost unknown; immediately the sun sets, night begins: and ere he had advanced far, the power of the storm was above—its echoing thunders had scarcely an internal of rest;–its thick heavy rain forced it way through the canopying foliage, whilst the blue forked lightning seemed to fall and radiate at his feet. #RandolphHarris 5 of 8

Suddenly, his horse took fright, and he was carried with dreadful rapidity through the entangled fruit orchard. The animal at last, through fatigue, stopped, and all he could see in the glare of lighting was the 9-story Observational Tower. Dismounting, he walked back towards it, hoping to find shelter for the night from the pelting of the storm. As he approached, the thunders, for a moment silent, allowed him to hear the dreadful shrieks of a woman mingling with the stifled, exultant mockery of a laugh, continued in one almost unbroken sound—he was startled: but, roused by the thunder which again rolled over his head, he, with a sudden effort, forced open the door of the tower. He found himself in utter darkness: the sound, however, guided him. He was apparently unperceived; for, though he called, still the sounds continued, and no notice was taken of him. Tarquin found himself in contact with some one, whom he immediately seized; when a voice cried, Again baffled!” to which a loud laugh succeeded; and he felt himself grappled by one whose strength seemed superhuman: determined to sell his life as dearly as he could, he struggled; but it was in vain: he was lifted from his feet and hurled with enormous force against the ground:–his enemy threw himself upon him, and kneeling upon his breast, hand placed his hands upon his throat—when the glare of many torches penetrating through the window that gave light in the day, disturbed him;–he instantly rose, and, leaving his prey, rushed through the door, and in a moment the crashing of the branches, as he broke through the fruit orchards, was no longer heard. #RandolphHarris 6 of 8

The storm was now still; and Tarquin, incapable of moving, was soon heard by those without. They entered; the light of their torches fell upon the woodened walls, and the thatch loaded on every individual panel with flakes of soot. At the desire of Tarquin, they searched for her who had attracted him by her cries; he was again left in darkness; but what was his horror, when the light of the torches once more burst upon him, to perceive the airy form of his fair conductress brought in a lifeless corpse. He shut his eyes, hoping that it was but a vision arising from his disturbed imagination; but again saw the same form, when he unclosed them, stretched by his side. There was no colour upon her cheek, not even upon her lip. She had dark brown hair, pulled back very tightly, and dark eyes. There was a stillness about her face that seemed almost as attaching as the life that once dwelt there;–upon her neck and breast was blood, and upon her throat were the marks of teeth having opened the vein:–to this the farmers pointed, crying, simultaneously struck with horror, “A Vampire! A Vampire!” Their lamentable cries, as the approached the main part of the mansion, forewarned myself and the servants of some dreadful catastrophe. Tarquin was put to bed in the Haunted Bedroom and was seized with the most violent fever, and was often delirious. His mind, by this shock, was much weakened, and that elasticity of the spirit which once so distinguished him now seemed to have feld forever. I sat staring vacantly into the fire and listened to the heavy ticking of the mantel clock. #RandolphHarris 7 of 8

I belonged to a Society, which met twice a week in my Blue Séance Room. The spirit of the departed could visit us from Heaven, which we often called “Summerland,” to speak through a medium to those they loved. We thought of Heaven as a perfect summer’s day in the country, with beautiful fields of flowers. It was now the first week of June, and still broad daylight, but the evening chill was already upon the air. Guests walked up the narrow staircase, and into the dim, Blue Séance Room, in which the curtains were already drawn. The only furniture was a large circular table, around which half a dozen people were already seated, including myself. I greeted them warmly. I ceased to speak. There was a collective gasp from the society; the hair rose upon the back of their necks. Everyone’s hands were joined and trembling. There was faint buzzing vibration, running up my arms and through my body. “I can feel the power,” I said. “Is there anybody here?” Words started welling up in my throat, threatening to choke me if I did not speak. I began to chant sounds to the tune of “All Things Bright and Beautiful,” and slowly the tension relaxed and my hand ceased to tremble. My skin was crawling with gooseflesh. There was an old melody, even elderly. And it was familiar. The wind grew stronger up here, there were moans of the unseen crying for help, as we heard rain spatter hard against the Séance Room window. There was a figure dressed in black looking through the barred window. After a few moments, she turned into a white human-shaped most and disappeared. #RandolphHarris 8 of 8

The Winchester Mystery House

Strange blue lights have been witnessed moving around some of the rooms in the Winchester Mansion, and at times, staff and guest have witnessed them circling around people. In the basement, growls are often heard, and people have encountered a malevolent spirit, said to be an elementary who manifests into an aggressive human form, while elsewhere extreme fluctuations in temperature, light anomalies and physical sensations of being pushed and grabbed are all commonly reported. Witnesses have also reported catching fleeting glimpses of a human haunting the water tower, or, the ghost tower, as it is ominously known. https://winchestermysteryhouse.com/

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